It Doesn't Matter Now
by Cosmic Mewtwo
Summary: Brief glimpses into Giovanni's past, a doomed romance, and Team Rocket as it was under Madam Boss. Giovanni x Miyamoto. 10x100. Oneshot.


Note: This idea has been rattling in my head for ages, so I finally decided to do something about it. I knew I'd only frustrate myself if I attempted anything more than a one-shot, so I settled on a 10x100 format.

For the unaware, a 10x100 is a collection of ten snippets of exactly 100 words, all connected by a common theme. I've discovered that it's much harder than it looks, and not for a long-winded rambler like myself.

Also, it's been a very long time since I've read the script from "The Birth of Mewtwo" audio drama. And I know I'm twisting the facts a little about Miyamoto and Madam Boss and whatnot, but it's always been a strange bit of cannon, anyway.

Enjoy.

* * *

It Doesn't Matter Now 

By Cosmic Mewtwo

* * *

"Giovanni, this is Miyamoto, my best agent. Miyamoto, meet my brat-son, Giovanni."

The introduction was cold, abrupt, and Madam Boss called Giovanni 'brat' seriously, not out of affection. Giovanni paid little attention to his mother's contempt; it was routine after twelve long years.

Giovanni's attention was instead on the girl standing in the middle of the office, a girl perhaps five or six years older than him, purple-haired and blue-eyed. She smiled— unusual for a Rocket.

Giovanni realized suddenly that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Miyamoto, still smiling, offered her hand. "Nice to meet you."

* * *

"_You — irresponsible — __**brat**_," hissed Madam Boss. Giovanni looked away, but she slapped him across the face, her nails scratching angry, red welts across his cheek. "If you plan on _ever_ leading Team Rocket, you're going to obey my orders and start behaving like a Rocket!"

"I'm twenty years old, mother," said Giovanni coolly, as though his face weren't stinging painfully. "I don't have to obey you."

"I'm your _boss! _You'll do as I say! I'm going to pair you with Miyamoto— perhaps you'll finally learn something!"

"… Miyamoto?" Giovanni's glare faltered; something in him stirred.

He felt no need to argue.

* * *

Two years.

Giovanni couldn't believe it. Two years as Miyamoto's partner, and not one mission failed. She was Team Rocket's rising star, and Giovanni finally felt like more than just the Boss's son.

There was a half-empty bottle of wine before them that Miyamoto had brought to Giovanni's quarters. She was curled on his sofa, close to him, drowsy from their quiet celebration.

"To success," she smiled, sipping her drink.

Giovanni watched her, the weight on his chest unbearable. "Miya?"

"Yes, Giovanni?"

But Giovanni knew words wouldn't suffice. Impulsively, he pulled her close, and sealed her lips with his own.

* * *

Their bodies writhed together beneath the sheets, skin against skin, sweat mingling with sweat. Her breath came in gasps, her fingernails digging into his skin with every movement. Every cry she uttered spurred Giovanni closer to the inevitable, his mind spinning, delirious.

Finally, he collapsed, rolled away, the act finished. She moved towards him, her hand falling across his chest, her lips finding his skin. She felt soft.

"Giovanni," she breathed. Giovanni saw her eyes glimmering. "What if your mother finds out?"

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "I love you, Miya."

Miyamoto sighed, unsure. "I love you, too, Giovanni."

* * *

"Miyamoto, you—you _can't_! What about your career? How will you be a Rocket?"

Miyamoto glared, and more tears trickled from her red, swollen eyes. "I won't get rid of it, Giovanni!" she sobbed.

Giovanni's hands were at his temples, tangling in his hair.

"But Miya—"

"I'm keeping this baby, Giovanni!" Her voice was strong, firm despite the trembling. "Will you be a father, or am I alone?"

Giovanni winced. "Miya, I can't—"

"Of _course _not—you're Team Rocket's _heir_," she said coldly. "This is below you, isn't it?"

Giovanni looked away without an answer. Miyamoto began to sob into her hands.

* * *

Giovanni stood stiffly at Miyamoto's doorway. Miyamoto's placid face barely concealed her anger, and Giovanni's barely hid his shame.

"Miya," he murmured. "You haven't spoken to me in months, just—"

"No," she said hoarsely, her face hard, unfeeling. It wasn't right. Where was her smile?

Beyond Miyamoto, Giovanni saw an infant on the floor, playing. A girl, with a shock of red hair. Giovanni felt something painful swell in his chest.

"Her name is Jessie," said Miyamoto. "And you'll have nothing to do with her."

She then slammed the door, leaving Giovanni to stifle the sudden sob in his throat

* * *

She had known all along, hadn't she?

She had known all along that _he _was the father, that _he _was responsible for ruining Team Rocket's best agent.

And now she had punished them both.

Madam Boss knew what she was doing when she had sent Miyamoto to the Andes, Giovanni was sure. The mountains were dangerous. Cold. Blizzards. Avalanches.

Miyamoto was never supposed to find Mew.

When word spread that Team Rocket had lost contact with Miyamoto, that she had _vanished, _Giovanni wasn't surprised.

Surprised, no—but his anguish was another matter entirely.

And someone would have to pay for it.

* * *

"And what about the child?" Giovanni demanded. "Jessie? Where is she?"

"The child is safe."

Giovanni, however, was not satisfied with his mother's vague response. "Where?" he shouted, louder this time. "With who?"

"I don't know where the child is. Miyamoto made these arrangements long ago. In case something happened." The Rocket Boss stood up and walked away from her desk, having lost interest in the conversation. Giovanni stared at her wretched form, trembling with fury.

The next morning, Madam Boss was found dead on her office floor, a single gunshot wound in her head.

No questions were ever asked.

* * *

"Sir, this team has failed _repeatedly_, I—"

"I will attend to it."

"—really, sir, firing them would—"

"_I will attend to it._"

The executive rolled his eyes, exasperated, but promptly left under Giovanni's cold scowl. There was simply no convincing him of Jessie and James's utter uselessness.

But Giovanni had his reasons.

Giovanni didn't know how Jessie had come to be in Team Rocket, but he had known who she was from the beginning. The red hair. The striking, blue eyes—Miyamoto's eyes. A quick check into Jessie's personal record had confirmed his suspicions.

And Giovanni couldn't simply fire his _daughter._

* * *

_Sometimes, Miya, I realize how much I've lost. _

_Sometimes, I forget just how much of a coward I was. How much control I let my mother have. But sometimes, I remember every guilty detail; every shameful mistake I made that drove you away. _

_Did you ever find Mew, Miya?_

_You could still be here. Jessie could have had a mother… a father. We might have been a family. _

_How absurd that sounds now._

_She doesn't know, Miya. I never told her. But she's happy… she doesn't need to know. It's my shameful burden. Not hers._

_I love you, Miya. Always._

* * *


End file.
